


Not Like the Stories

by Sarah1281



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bittersweet Ending, King Stannis, Sansa has a knack for finding people to help her, she really could use a just and dutiful king for once, that do not even slightly fit her image of a true knight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2014-11-19
Packaged: 2018-02-26 07:12:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2642822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarah1281/pseuds/Sarah1281
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stannis wins at Blackwater. He's nothing like what Sansa expected her savior to be and is no one's idea of a dashing knight but, just the same, she can't help but hope that this just man will finally allow her to return to her family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Like the Stories

Sansa had spent the whole night huddled on her bed, curled up and terrified, praying praying _praying_. Praying for what she could not say. She wanted to go home. She wanted her mother. She wanted _Robb_. 

But it was Stannis’ forces set out to defeat the Lannisters, not her brother’s. She had never met Stannis and knew little about him. They said he was terrifyingly just which made no sense to her except perhaps these people _were_ afraid of a little justice. She would be if she was them. 

It wouldn’t be justice to kill her, would it? It wouldn’t be justice to keep her. The Lannisters would never, ever let her go. She was their prisoner they would make their queen. 

She might pray for Stannis, secretly for all Cersei knew what she was feeling, what _anyone_ would feel in her position, except the city was on fire. Sansa had never seen the sacking of a city, Cersei was quite right about that, but she didn’t think she wanted to, even if it meant her freedom. People _still_ spoke of the Lannister sack of King’s Landing all those years ago. And yes this would be the army of a just man and not one who gave the corpses of innocent children as a gift and who was Joffrey’s grandfather but…the queen had painted a very vivid picture in her mind. The atrocities she’d rattled off, casual as anything, chilled Sansa to the bone. _Their birth protects them but not as much as you’d think._ Even the old and ugly ones and everyone always _always_ said Sansa was so beautiful though it had ceased feeling like a blessing a long time ago. Maybe if she were a little plainer Joffrey would lose interest in her. 

They all agreed Stannis was a just man, however much they hated and feared him, but surely he couldn’t control everything his men did. And…if he won…Cersei might have forgotten her but that didn’t mean Ser Ilyn Payne had. Cersei might go to her own death completely ignorant of how she had killed Sansa. 

She didn’t know what to pray for. Just…an end to the fighting. 

She didn’t dare leave the relative safety of her chamber (the lock would take a while to go through but it would be the first place Lannister forces would think to look for her) to find out what had happened but eventually the fighting had stopped and the stillness could mean any number of things. 

After a time there came a knock on her door. 

_Be brave_ , Sansa told herself, standing tremulously. _You are a Stark and you can be brave._

“Who is it?” she called, her voice coming out steadier than she had expected. She prayed for an answer, any kind of spoken answer. 

“Ser Herbert Bolling, my lady,” a voice replied. “You are Lady Sansa Stark, are you not? I was directed here but with all the confusion you never know and I’d never trust a Lannister.” 

Sansa’s eyes closed and she began to shake harder than before but this time from relief. It wasn’t Ser Ilyn Payne and he couldn’t talk anyway. Never trust a Lannister? No Lannister man would say that so openly of the royal family, not here in King’s Landing. It must be one of Stannis’ men. 

“I-I am,” she confirmed. 

“Please, my lady, open the door so that I may take you to King Stannis,” Ser Herbert said earnestly. “One of the first things he did when he entered King’s Landing proper was instruct me to find you and your sister.” 

Find her? Find her for what? Stannis wouldn’t kill her out of spite like Queen Cersei would. It wasn’t even Robb’s forces that were attacking, there was no need to punish her house for this. Was she to be his hostage now? It might be…safer. But it might be something else entirely. Stannis was said to be a just man. 

As her hand touched the doorknob, it occurred to her that this could be a trick. Maybe they just wanted her to open up so they could hurt her. Kill her. The queen had said…But what would be the point of that? They could knock down her door easily enough. They got into the Red Keep, they could get into her chambers. She couldn’t stop them if they really wanted to. And maybe he was telling the truth. 

She opened the door and looked up at a handsome dark-haired man of perhaps five and twenty. He bowed. “My lady.” 

“Thank you, Ser Herbert,” she said politely. “I would be most glad to see your king.” 

He smiled at that. “Oh, I’d wager he’ll be everyone’s king soon enough, no matter what kind of battles that brother of yours keeps winning.” 

“My loyalty has always been to the Iron Throne,” Sansa said delicately. 

Ser Herbert laughed. “I’m sure we’ll hear much of that in the days to come. But Stannis can’t really execute half the nobles in King’s Landing for all I’m sure he’d like to.” 

That was a worrying thought and Sansa tensed. 

“Oh, none of that, my lady!” Ser Herbert assured her. “I only mean that King Stannis has a dim view of treason and the Lannisters knew exactly what they were doing when they put a bastard on the throne instead of King Robert’s true heir.” 

Sansa had heard the rumors but she hadn’t known what to think. She had brothers herself, after all. She may have had her moon’s blood but she still could not even imagine being wed let alone…she had brothers, same as the queen did. How could the rumors be true? But then, did it really matter if it was true or not? The Lannisters were going to deny it either way and now Stannis put it forward as true. The rumors had come from him, hadn’t they? If Stannis was truly just he must believe it but that did not guarantee it was true. It seemed to her that no one living _could_ know the truth except for the queen and her brother. 

“My brother is rebelling,” Sansa couldn’t help but say. 

Ser Herbert nodded sympathetically. “Yes, but he was rebelling against the Lannisters. With any luck he will accept Stannis as his king and the whole thing will be over.”

_And if he doesn’t?_

“Do you know where your sister is?” Ser Herbert asked. 

Sansa shook her head. “No. No one’s seen Arya since…since my father was arrested.” 

Ser Herbert sighed. “I see. King Stannis won’t be happy with that but there’s nothing to be done about it. Follow me and stay close. You never know what might be skulking about.” 

Sansa tried her best not to look around as she hurried after Ser Herbert. There were bodies everywhere. She didn’t want to look and see if she knew any of them. 

Eventually they reached the throne room and Ser Herbert held the door open for her before entering himself. So like a true knight. And if his house had been sworn to the Lannisters, would he have even allowed himself to see her? Surely if Ser Dontos could than others could as well, even if they needed to keep it just as much a secret. 

There was a man sitting uncomfortably upon the Iron Throne, the crown on his head was like fire. That must be Stannis. He was bald and not very handsome but he might just save her. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. But then her dashing prince had killed her father and nothing had been right again. 

Joffrey was standing before him, in the role of petitioner for once. Two knights held him in place. 

“I don’t care,” Joffrey insisted. “I don’t. None of it…it doesn’t _matter_. You can take the damned city but it doesn’t change anything. _I_ am the rightful king and you’re nothing more than a dirty usurper.” 

“I’m a usurper,” Stannis repeated. “It seems all my years of doing nothing but my duty will not stop these allegations from being lobbed about. You know, Joffrey, that my brother only won his crown through violence. In some parts they still call him the usurper.” 

“ _My father_ ,” Joffrey insisted. He struggled against the guards but couldn’t break free. He was so much smaller than them. “He did what he had to do. The Mad King was killing everyone. He was- he was _mad_. It was right. But you didn’t even wait until his body was cold before trying to steal the inheritance of his firstborn son.” 

Stannis looked consideringly at him. “I suppose this must come as a great shock to you, Joffrey. Technically, you did nothing wrong. Your mother wouldn’t be so great a fool as to tell you that you are a bastard born of incest, to breathe a word of it to anyone would mean her head. How were you to know? And when my brother died it seemed only natural that his supposed son take his place. You didn’t know.” 

“There was nothing _to_ know,” Joffrey spat. “I’ve heard your vile lies and that’s all there is to them – lies! And not even very clever ones, either. Do you think anyone doesn’t know what you’re doing? My sister and brother and myself, all removed from the line of succession on the word of the person who would be king without us!” 

“It would be easier if you believed,” Stannis said slowly. “It would be easier if you admitted it. As I said, you did not know what you were doing before and it is not your fault you were treasonously crowned. But you know _now_. You will bend the knee or I will act accordingly.” 

Sansa thought she saw him tremble. “By all means, kill your rightful king. It won’t make you any more legitimate.” 

Stannis shook his head. “Take him away.” 

As Joffrey was led away, Ser Herbert stepped forward. “I have found the lady Sansa Stark, Your Grace.” 

Stannis glanced her way. “And the sister?” 

Nervously, Sansa stepped forward. “Your Grace, my sister Arya managed to escape when my father’s household was being killed. No one has seen her since.” 

“She’s probably dead.” 

It wasn’t as though Sansa didn’t know that. She had believed once that Arya had made it all the way back home to Winterfell. She had believed a lot of things once. 

“Sansa Stark,” Stannis said, looking her up and down. “You look like your mother.” 

“Do-do you know her, Your Grace?” 

Stannis inclined his head. “I saw her a few months past. She was meeting with my brother when Renly and I met to discuss my claim to the throne and his pretendings to it. I told her that I would send you to her and your sister, too, if she were found. I will not scour the land for a dead child, your family can do that well enough on their own, but you at least are still here.” 

Sansa did not know if she dared believe it. “Truly? You will return me to my mother?”

Stannis’ gaze was hard. “I do not say things that I do not mean.” 

“I’m not saying that you would,” Sansa was quick to assure him. “It is only that…I have been away for so long. And I know I’m a valuable hostage. Queen Cersei insisted I was still to marry her son even after they gave my father a traitor’s death and my brother Robb took to the field. And Robb’s declared the North independent.” 

“I am not a Lannister,” Stannis said stiffly. “I will not have the world see me as one. Taking a child as hostage after killing her father when the child came to King’s Landing as an honored guest is not just and there is no need. I know not what happened to lead your father to his death but, knowing the sort of man he is and the sort of people the Lannisters are, I can only speculate that there was a moral conflict. Who knows? Perhaps he stumbled upon the same secret of Joffrey’s paternity that I did. Maybe there’s still someone here who knows. But Ned Stark’s death was unjust either way and I mean to avenge it. Keeping his daughter as some spoils of war would not be right. And I did give your mother my word.” 

Sansa knew that she should keep quiet and take this blessing for what it was worth. “And my brother? What of him?” 

Stannis was quiet for a long moment. “So loyal. I can respect that. I won’t ask you to pretend that you seek his defeat at my hands though I daresay the Lannisters did. He is your brother and I cannot say that I never chose mine over my rightful king. Your mother, before she knew the truth of Joffrey, said that whatever our reasons your family, myself, and Renly were all traitors to the crown. It wasn’t true; I was never a traitor. Not to my brother. Had Joffrey been his I would have stood by him no matter what Renly did. But he wasn’t and that meant I was the rightful king and no traitor. Why did your brother crown himself king, Lady Sansa?” 

Sansa drew back, not having expected the question. “I-I don’t know,” she confessed. “My brother wrote to me sparingly before my father’s arrest and I was never allowed any correspondence from my family afterwards. Only a letter the queen instructed me to send asking them to swear fealty to Joffrey.”

“Perhaps you do not _know_ ,” Stannis conceded. “But you grew up with him. You must have some idea of what it is that’s motivating him. Is he a foolhardy boy full of bloodlust and dreams of glory? Is he a puppet controlled by his bannermen? Will he bend the knee?” 

“I…” Sansa trailed off and thought about it, truly thought about it. It had been more than a year since she had last seen her brother Robb and he had been so young then. He was good, she knew that much. Even if the world was turning out to be less and less like she had expected, her memories of home were still the same. She couldn’t have lived a lie there her entire life and Robb was still the brother she remembered. He had to be. But a king…it was so hard to imagine it. Hard enough to imagine him being a lord. And yet what had happened had happened and she had to try and figure it out. If Stannis might listen to what she had to say, if he could view Robb more kindly based on what she said…

“My brother did not declare himself the king of the North until after the death of my father,” she began again. “Before then he had just gathered an army to let the Lannisters know that imprisoning our father, the highest lord in the North, would not be abided by. I think if the Lannisters had given him back or let him take the black, as everyone but Joffrey wanted, Robb would have gone back home. But he didn’t. My father was killed and I was held hostage and nobody wanted to talk about Arya’s disappearance. And Joffrey demanded my brother come to King’s Landing and swear fealty. Swear fealty to the man who murdered his father.”

She took a deep breath. “I did. I had no choice. I was afraid they would kill me. They already beat me before Tyrion Lannister made them stop. But Robb was far away and he had an army. He had the North and my mother is of the Riverlands. My aunt rules in the Vale though I have not heard she has been involved in the war. My brother could either bend the knee to the murderer of his father and hide in Winterfell or he could rebel. And so he did rebel. It was his duty to avenge our father, not promise loyalty to his executioner. It’s what happened in Robert’s Rebellion and it’s what they would have done in a song.” 

Stannis laughed mirthlessly. “A song. But then, your brother is fourteen, is he not?” 

“Fifteen.” 

“I can see refusing to bend the knee to a man who killed your father for treason under suspicious circumstances, especially if you do not believe the charges,” Stannis said slowly. “It is foolish and I would not tolerate it but it has been done before. But why declare himself _king_?” 

Sansa whetted her lips. “Well…what else was he to do? If he could not swear fealty to Joffrey then he could either attempt to remove Joffrey and perhaps all of House Lannister from the throne or he could try and leave the Seven Kingdoms. Maybe he thought that would be easier.” 

“If he thought that then he was most assuredly mistaken,” Stannis said sharply. “No matter who is king, no one will ever consent to losing one of the Seven Kingdoms. We would not even consent to losing the Iron Islands, much less the North and potentially the Riverlands. If he did not wish to serve Joffrey, why not swear fealty to me? Or even my brother before his death?” 

“I was not there, Your Grace,” Sansa reminded him. “I do not know. But you said that my mother had not heard that Joffrey was not King Robert’s trueborn son when she met you. My brother would not have known when he became a king and so he would not have known you were the natural successor.” 

“And after?” Stannis asked archly. “Surely your mother has made her way back to him by now.”

“I think,” Sansa began then hesitated. What did he want her to say? She didn’t _know_. At least he was not reacting overly poorly to her answers, paltry though they were. “I think that once he took up the crown it would have been very difficult to say never mind and swear fealty to you.” 

“So young,” Stannis said, shaking his head. 

“Your Grace,” Sansa said. “What will you do with my brother?” 

“That depends entirely on him,” Stannis replied. “His declaring himself king is treason, of course, but it was treason against the Lannisters and quite understandable. I was rebelling against them, myself, though my reasons were more legitimate. Since your brother was rebelling against a house I have removed from power and you believe he just needed to not be called upon to serve them, perhaps he will listen when I tell him to stop his rebellion and swear fealty to me.” 

If Robb did that then there was nothing to worry about. “And if he doesn’t?” 

“Then I will crush him,” Stannis said simply. 

Sansa fell to her knees. “Please, Your Grace. He is my brother. And he is young, as you said. Don’t kill him.” 

Stannis looked dispassionately at her. “I am not without mercy. If he survives to bend the knee then I will not have to. But I must have my kingdom united.” 

Sansa stood up. “Thank you, Your Grace.” 

Stannis nodded vaguely. “You are not wrong in thinking that you would be a valuable tool in forcing your brother’s hand, especially after Winterfell. Returning you may cause me countless problems with a well-placed marriage alliance. I know the Tyrells have no love for me after Renly’s death. But I swore that I would return you to your mother and I do not need to rely on such tricks to secure _my_ kingdom.”

Sansa blinked, not understanding. “After…Winterfell?” Had something happened? 

Stannis narrowed his eyes at her. “You haven’t heard.” 

“Heard what?” Sansa asked urgently, clasping her hands together. “Please, I-what happened?” 

“Your family’s former hostage, Theon Greyjoy, captured Winterfell while most of its strength was dealing with another Ironborn attack,” Stannis explained. 

_Hostage?_

“Not a bad strategy when it comes to taking a castle but of course he’d never be able to hold it. He killed your two brothers and set fire to Winterfell when it became clear that he was going to lose it.” 

Sansa just stood there, not understanding the words, attempting to breathe, attempting to stand. Her trembling hands were clasped tight. She waited. She waited and waited and waited for the words to go away or to make sense or to-to _something_. But there was just Stannis staring impassively at her. Somehow that grounded her. 

“Dead?” 

“Yes. It is…unfortunate you had to find out from me though I daresay the Lannisters wouldn’t have broken the news any gentler,” Stannis said stiffly. 

Tyrion might have. He was always trying to be kind which was appreciated though of course she didn’t trust him any more than any of them. Cersei and Joffrey had been kind once, too. Mayhaps Tyrion simply saw that the Lannisters were not winning any favor by having the future queen beaten in public. 

It didn’t matter. How could it matter? She’d rather wed a hundred Joffrey’s and be beaten every day of her life than have this news be true. 

Theon…how could Theon have done that? He was so much older than her so she never had much to do with him but he had been there for as long as she could remember. He was just as much a part of the household as Jon or Jeyne Poole or any of them. That wasn’t how wards were supposed to behave. And he _loved_ Robb. Why would he…he had lived at Winterfell longer than Bran or Rickon ever did. 

She hadn’t gotten a chance to say goodbye to Bran, she remembered suddenly. She wasn’t supposed to have had to. He was coming to King’s Landing with them but then there had been the fall and he just wouldn’t wake up no matter how hard she had prayed. And then one day a letter with a miracle came and he had woken up and her father took her and Arya to the godswood to give thanks. Everyone always wanted to talk about how sad it was that Bran would never walk and they weren’t wrong but they seemed to completely miss the part where her brother was _alive_. And now he wasn’t. 

And Rickon, little baby Rickon so terrified of everything including his own direwolf puppy. Robb had written that he was growing fiercer but she had never gotten a chance to see it and, in truth, she couldn’t imagine it. Even _she_ had not been scared. How could she be? Lady was…

But Lady was dead. Rickon was dead. Bran was dead. She had gotten the chance to say goodbye to Rickon, at least, worrying vaguely that he wouldn’t remember her the next time they saw each other. He was so little and he had scarcely gotten the chance to get bigger. 

“No,” she whispered helplessly. 

“You will have justice for Winterfell and your brothers as well, Lady Sansa,” Stannis told her simply. “One of your brother’s bannermen reclaimed it. If Theon Greyjoy lives, he will answer for this.” 

“What good would that do?” Sansa asked. “Having Theon answer for that, what does that even mean? Killing him, torturing him…none of it would be any good. It wouldn’t bring Bran or Rickon back.” 

“It was never going to. Nothing is. But killing him is justice.” 

He was probably right. Everyone said that Stannis was a just man. What did she know of justice? She certainly hadn’t seen any in a very long time. 

“You are your brother’s heir now,” Stannis informed her. “Until he has a child of his own, Winterfell will pass to you upon his death.” 

No. No she couldn’t handle thinking of Robb’s death, not ever, and certainly not now. No. She had never thought of herself as an heir of Winterfell despite being the daughter of the lord and lady and the sister of the heir. Robb and Bran and Rickon would all need to die without issue before she would ever be considered and it just hadn’t seemed possible. It hadn’t ever been something she had wanted. And now…

“You are fighting my brother and you will let me go home?” 

“That remains to be seen,” Stannis said. “And yes, I told your mother I would return you to her and I shall. You will remain here under my protection for a few days as we secure the city and then an armed escort will escort you to Riverrun and they can see about sending you to your mother and your brother then.” 

“ _Please_.” 

“There is no need to ask,” Stannis told her. “I will do as I said.” 

“Then thank you,” Sansa told him, suddenly feeling very tired. She hadn’t been able to sleep for fear of what might happen and she didn’t know how she’d sleep now that she knew about Winterfell and her brothers but sooner or later she’d have to pass out from sheer exhaustion. Either that or a maester would come around with something to help her sleep. 

Stannis looked surprised at that. “You are welcome.” 

“I beg your leave to be excused.” 

Stannis nodded. “Yes, of course.” He looked around and his gaze landed on Ser Herbert. “You, escort Lady Sansa back to her chambers.” 

Ser Herbert nodded and she followed him out into the corridor. 

She tried to focus on the fact she would soon see her mother again. Tried to imagine the feel of gentle hands in her hair, a warm figure holding her close and making her believe that everything would be alright. They were together and somehow everything would be alright. Tried to imagine what Robb would look like now that he was a king. Sansa knew very well now that kings could do whatever they liked but Robb wouldn’t do anything _bad_ , would he? Would he want to quickly betroth her again to help his campaign? Would he bend the knee to Stannis? And even her half-brother Jon, safe at the Wall, alive when so much of the rest of their family had died. She hadn’t given much thought to seeing him before but now she desperately wanted to reassure herself that not all of her brothers were lost to her. 

She tried to focus on the family she still had, tried to even imagine Arya, wild and bedraggled, somehow making her way across the seven kingdoms heading for home. Rickon’s broken little body kept flashing through her mind instead. How had Theon killed him? She hadn’t asked and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Would he have taken his life with an arrow? She knew that Theon had always liked to shoot. Bran’s death was even easier to imagine for she had already seen him quiet and broken before she left. At least she had gotten to say goodbye to his ever-sleeping body. He had just fallen and woken up to find everybody gone and now she was never, ever going to see him again. 

It was impossible. 

It had been hard enough to believe that of her father and she had even seen his head being cut off. She couldn’t remember much about that day but she remembered that, clearly enough. That and the way that Joffrey had smiled at her before tearing her into a million pieces. 

And now there was Bran and Rickon, too. And her mother ifs she had been there. But she was off with Robb and could be killed at any time. Robb, if anything, was in more danger. And Arya…Arya was fierce but she was even younger than Sansa herself and she knew herself well enough to know that she would never last a day out there all alone. 

Somehow, Sansa knew that she wouldn’t be getting any sleep that night. She wouldn’t be getting any anytime soon. 

But maybe…when she was with her mother again…maybe then. Somehow. She was her _mother_. She _had_ to make it alright. 

When they reached her chambers, Sansa thanked Ser Herbert, locked herself in, and lay down on the bed. 

She closed her eyes and prayed.


End file.
